


With bloody hands I surrender to you my heart

by Callmepapi



Series: *Whumptober 2020* [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmepapi/pseuds/Callmepapi
Summary: But Jaskier didn’t have common sense, did he? At least that’s what Geralt realised when he saw Jaskier splayed out on the ground, face towards the sky, arms wide, and two very nasty matching cuts on his palms.Or, Jaskier tries his best to stand his ground. It doesn’t work as well as one would hope.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: *Whumptober 2020* [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947244
Comments: 4
Kudos: 171





	With bloody hands I surrender to you my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Day two of whumptober - bloody hands. I think this one turned out all right lol. Comments and kudos appreciated XD

Jaskier doesn’t even think twice when he sees Geralt fall.

The bandits surrounding them cheer and holler and Jaskier panics from where he’s hidden behind a bush. Somehow,  _ somehow _ , they managed to knock the Witcher out cold. Caught him off guard from behind with a hard hit to the head from the pommel of a sword and, well, that’ll knock anybody out.

So here Jaskier is, hidden behind a bush, fretting and biting his nails like a child. He has to do something. He’s not going to sit and twiddle his thumbs while Geralt unknowingly gets robbed!

So he moves himself, tries to find a better angle, he doesn’t have a plan but that’s fine. It’s fine!

When they start grabbing Geralt’s swords he makes his move. Shooting out from between the brushes, he grabs the end of Geralt’s silver sword before he even knows what he’s doing.

The pain registers only a moment after. Deep cuts slit his palms, but he doesn’t let go. The mere sight of Geralt on the floor has him tightening his grip on the sharp blade and pulling it towards him, trying not to gag when his palms slide, slick with blood, and the gash on his hand only grows longer.

He screams through the pain. The feral behaviour he displays is enough to make the bandit gripping the sword let go, the added weight of the hilt dropping to the ground causes more blood to spill.

It may have been enough to stop that bandit from fighting back, but it’s not enough to deter the one behind him - who swings a rock towards his skull.

…

Geralt wakes to a throbbing headache. He groans and sits up weakly, trying to figure out what the  _ hell _ happened. There were bandits, seven of them, each with their own heavy weapon. 

Too many to fight, his brain supplies. They must have gotten the upper-hand and knocked him out the moment they found the chance. What else… Jaskier? He was fine, safe, hidden behind a bush and if he had any common sense then he-

But Jaskier didn’t have fucking common sense, did he? At least that’s what Geralt realised when he saw Jaskier splayed out on the ground, face towards the sky, arms wide, and two very nasty matching cuts on his palms.

There’s nothing to it. He gets up, perhaps a bit too fast judging by the spinning forest, and heads towards the saddle bags attached to Roach. But there’s nothing in them. The fucking bandits took  _ everything _ , even they’re healing supplies.

Right, he’ll have to make do then. Geralt moves quickly, grabbing a half full waterskin by the fire that had been left behind and crouches down by Jaskier again. He grasps the bard’s chemise and rips a patch off him, leaving the skin around his belly exposed to the cool air. 

He pours water onto both the cuts, eyeing them carefully for any sign of infection, or any loose twigs and leaves that may have accidentally got inside. Then he wraps the palms in the bard’s shirt - makeshift bandages for now.

Geralt props him up by a tree and lays his cloak over him, thankfully the bandits hadn't deemed it necessary to steal. His priority for now is to keep Jaskier safe, keep him warm. His hands were freezing and Geralt knew he had to light a fire soon, though he didn’t want to leave the bard alone.

He had an idea, a stupid one Jaskier would say, but an idea nonetheless. He grasped roach’s reins and gently brought her over, the horse moved until she was beside Jaskier and carefully lay on the forest floor, wary of the injured bard. Gently, Geralt lifted both of jaskier’s hands as Roach lay her head in his lap, a heavy yet comforting weight. He placed Jaskier's hands to rest atop her head and then set off to look for firewood, noting the setting sun in the sky.

…

Jaskier awoke to throbbing pain in his arms that seemed to radiate down to his fingertips. He cracked open an eye - the sky was purple, getting darker by the minute, there was a warm fire in front of him - the crackling being the only noise in the forest. He looked down at where the pain centred in his hands, surprised to see Roach with her head on his lap, he crooked a weak finger to trail across her neck.

“R-Roach,” he whispered, for his voice had yet to come back to him. The horse huffed in response and moved to stand. Jaskier watched her get up, feeling slightly helpless due to the weakness in his limbs and the throbbing in his head. He looked back down to where the pain radiated in his hands, turning them to look at his palms.

His breath hitched when he saw the bandages - stained red with blood. With trembling fingers he carefully unwrapped them, unveiling a deep welt in his palm, the surrounding skin a heated red.

He whimpered, his breath stuttered in his chest. It was enough to wake Geralt out of his meditation. Jaskier didn’t even notice him until there were arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Jaskier, come on,” Geralt said as he wrapped himself around the younger man in what Jaskier would call a fair attempt at a hug. It was suffocating. Should have been suffocating. But Jaskier felt warmth in the embrace, he felt safer, relaxed, he trusted Geralt. But his breath was still shaky and he was still in a bit of a panic about his hands.

“G-Ger…what…my hands?” Geralt withdrew himself from the bard. He frowned at him and glanced at the unwrapped palm, then sat back slightly to pour water over it, Jaskier hissed at the feeling.

“I don’t know what happened. Bandits must’ve knocked me out. But you fought back, grabbed a sword by it's blade, judging by the cuts. They made off with them anyway, but you did good, jaskier, you did good.” He finished this with a ruffle of his hair, bringing his hand down to cup the bard’s cheek, the bandages having been reapplied whilst he spoke.

“So, I didn’t even manage to stop them, in the end?” Geralt frowned and brought his hand under jaskier’s chin, until they were eye level, being near the same height anyway made it easy.

“You fought well-” Geralt started, when Jaskier interrupted him.

“You didn’t even see me-” he cried.

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouted, the bard paused, “I know you. You put up a good fight. I  _ know _ you… better than most. If you hadn't done that, you could have ended up dead.” jaskier rolled his eyes and looked down at geralt's words but the witcher could sense a glimpse of worry in his frown. 

"Call me selfish but I'd rather wake up to bloody palms than your innards on the floor," geralt continued. Jaskier sighed and looked back to face him, a small smile beginning to form on his face lit only by the glowing fire. Geralt thought it made him look sublime.

“Will you play my lute for me now, and I’ll sing at taverns. We can be a duo? The Valiant bard and his lionhearted Witcher… partners for eternity.” His smile faltered only for a moment at the last words.

“I’d be honoured, Jaskier. You’d have to teach me, though I must warn - lute-playing wasn’t a class taught at kaer morhen.” He said, fumbling with the makeshift bandage on jaskier’s hand. At the corner of his eye he saw jaskier’s smile grow slightly larger.

"Thank you, geralt." The bard smiled, fondly. The witcher smiled in return. 

"What’re friends for?"

  
  
  
  



End file.
